This Never Ending Tale
by Aiko Isari
Summary: It's going from motherhood to grandmotherhood to motherhood again. Hatsu-centric, character study.
1. 1

1.

Hatsu marries later in life than she probably meant to.

It means slim pickings to her friends but she's fine with that. Thirty is as thirty does and her man gives her a kiss on the forehead every time he comes home until he simply does not, some fifteen years after their daughter is born.

She doesn't really mind this either.

At this point, her daughter is old enough to fend for herself in the world. She can get a job and avoid high school. This has been a dream of hers for years, she had said.

Hatsu humors her.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ Here's me writing the best grandma in fandom ever!

Challenges: Diversity WRitingCoMD4, and WIXOSS non flash prompt - Hatsu K.


	2. 2

2.

Hatsu works for years and years. It's fulfilling.

Her daughter lasts all of her summer vacation before she starts cramming, studying hard for a good school, a good life.

"I won't be like you," she says without venom. "I'll be able to retire young."

Hatsu humors her again because at least his time she looks happy. At least now she looks determined to do something. Whether that something is appropriate or not is something that she herself probably should not judge.

So she goes about her life, earning wage after wage after wage. She touches her hair, feeling it age.


	3. 3

3.

Twelve years after her husband is gone, her daughter returns with a man and a little boy in tow. The boy scowls until Hatsu smiles, and then he returns it like it's the first time he's ever seen a smile. She glances at her daughter and her weary face, and knows it's not true. She knows.

The man is exceedingly polite. He's sneering on the inside.

"You didn't invite me to the wedding."

"We haven't had it," he says, glancing at her daughter like it's her fault.

Hatsu smiles. "Then we should get to work."

Wisely, he does not disagree.


	4. 4

4.

She is in the middle of sewing up an old quilt to give away when her phone breaks off the receiver in intensity.

Her daughter is giving birth.

Hatsu thinks of screaming. She doesn't actually, but she thinks about it long and hard as she hangs up on her son-in-law.

Giving birth. She hadn't even known her daughter had gotten pregnant a second time. She will scold them later. Hatsu gets a taxi and heads to the hospital.

Little Ayumu looks furious. Poor thing.

"I don't want a sibling," he says.

Hatsu titters and looks at the father. "Miyako did."


	5. 5

5.

She gets more phone calls this time. That's a relief. Apparently a girl is more difficult than a boy. Or maybe the two of them realized how difficult children actually are.

Not to mention that _money_ is going missing. Dear oh dear. What an awful young man he must be. Without thinking, possibly because she's out in the country and the house will be paid off in the next month, she starts childproofing. They can live here, she doesn't mind. Her husband's apartment is waiting for them even still.

The most troubling matter is making Ayumu a less sullen child.


	6. 6

6.

Ruko is a different quiet than her brother. She in fact, is barely quiet at all. Ayumu fusses about it, torn between glaring at her and rocking her to sleep. Children are so much more openly contrary and it's a welcome change.

Well, when she sees them. Hatsu can only hope to see them more often, during happier times. Her daughter is haggard and bitter. Hatsu had warned her this would happen. Granted, she knew it had been all she had done but it was still better than nothing.

No, it wasn't. But she couldn't say 'I told you so'.


	7. 7

7.

Sometimes you have to wait for your children to shatter. Sometimes you have to wait for them to realize you were wrong as much as they.

She tries to soothe her daughter, tries to calm the bitterness and rage but the deeper it's buried in someone's heart, the more difficult it is to unearth.

If only it didn't involve the children.

Hatsu listens to her rage on, listens to each black word pour out and interrupts with a loud slurp of tea.

"I'm moving to the city next year," she says. Hatsu beams in the silence. "I miss the noise."


	8. 8

8.

Her daughter is furious. So furious, so tired. Still so selfish, even now.

"You all can live here, if you'd like," Hatsu offered. "Most of my furniture is what I don't need."

"Don't be ridiculous," her daughter says. "You can't leave. I need you."

Hatsu smiles, keeps a firm check on the fury and guilt beginning to pool in her ankles. "You are a grown woman, my dear. You will always need me." She exhaled. "That is no excuse."

She thinks she hears the children stop their play. Or one of them. Little Ruko pays no attention. Bless that child.


	9. 9

9.

She hates the child. Her daughter hates her own child.

Regret pulses like bile. What did this man do to her? What had Hatsu done to her?

Was there anything at all? Or was she simply always like this and Hatsu hadn't wanted to see.

"It's the way she _looks_ at me," the woman in front of her admits, not seeing Ruko right there, not even noticing her outside the door. "She doesn't even seem to care. It's… I just can't understand it."

"Have you tried?" Hatsu keeps her voice gentle. "Your children saw you fight."

"What if they did?"


	10. 10

10.

It isn't their last conversation, but it is a long time before Hatsu initiates another one with her. She didn't need her daughter to help her move, and Ayumu volunteered anyway. It was a nice way to spend his last summer break before middle school.

"Ru-chan would have loved to help too," she mused with a chuckle. "She could see what school she'll be heading to sometime."

"Mom would have told you to keep her." Ayumu sounds too bitter for a teenager. Or just right.

"Don't worry, I'd keep you both."

His shoulders fall with relief. She contains her disappointment.


	11. 11

11.

Hatsu doesn't know where she went wrong with her Miyako, but she will do right with the children. These strong bending children. They try so hard not to be angry or sad or hurt, but the internal welts are so clear. A parent is indeed a permanent career choice.

Her love, once again, needs to outweigh her grief, her anger, her sorrow. When it doesn't, that will be fine too, she supposes. She doesn't have to work anymore, she can simply be the doting grandmother who spoils her grandchildren. It was every grandparent's dream.

She would satisfy herself with it.


End file.
